


The Beginning of Everything

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: -AU of Hill and Bill's library meeting.*RE-POST





	The Beginning of Everything

**The Beginning of Everything**

 

Hillary sat perched atop a bar stool, feet semi-crossed over each other as they dangled beneath it. She left the last of the foamy suds in the bottom of her beer bottle to dissipate, signalled the barman to hit her with a fresh one.

 

 

“Thanks,” she said easily when he twisted off the top and slid the beverage across to her, raising her voice to be heard over the din of the music. As bright blue eyes flitted across the room, pupils dilating in the darkness, she caught the boy who'd been intermittently watching her in her peripheral. Situated at the opposite end of the bar, he was surrounded by a group of friends generous in number and looked to be the life of the party.

 

 

Even in less than stellar lighting and from such a distance away she could tell his face was animated, that he liked the attentions. She'd be willing to bet, too, that were she closer she'd be able to depict more than a hint of blush creeping up into his face, but they'd not made even a millisecond of direct eye contact. He looked away every time she attempted it.

 

 

///

 

“Who _is_ that?” Bill said out loud into the open space, directing the question at no one in his circle in particular. He didn't even think any of them would pick up on it over the thud of louder than was necessary bass. 

 

 

“Oh, that's Hillary,” one of the friends in closest proximity offered in response as he cast a gaze to where Bill's had returned and placed another beer into his hand. “Don't you know her?”

 

 

“I don't think so,” Bill mused, sure that if they'd crossed paths for even a second he would have remembered. “But I want to.” Despite that he was in a committed relationship, had told himself he'd work harder not to do a total disservice to monogamy, his eye was wandering and he had to fight against himself. She wasn't his type – different than what he'd gone for in the past – but something told him there was more beneath the surface, that if he were lucky enough to see beyond that, it would set into motion a whole different set of circumstances.

“Then go talk to her,” a second friend nudged him.

 

 

“Nah, I can't.” Casting his gaze to her again, he noticed that she'd turned at the exact same moment and was looking directly at him. Sets of blue locked with each other and as she shifted in her seat, uncrossed her feet and lowered her body down from the stool, he felt sweat pool in his palms and his heart hammering incessantly in his chest as she made her way closer. Rarely did he struggle with holding a conversation – could and would talk to anyone, about anything – but she had him wanting both to run and keep his feet glued to the floor – a feeling he couldn't seem to make sense of.

 

 

“If you're gonna keep staring at me all night,” Hillary said loudly as she bent close to his ear when distance allowed for it. “You may as well buy me a drink.” A wink was extended in his general direction when she rose again to full height to play her words off as flirtation rather than demand.

 

 

“I can do that,” Bill said easily. “What's your poison?”

 

 

“Budweiser,” she told him.

 

 

“Beer drinker,” he stated with a light nod. “I like you already.”

 

 

“Good to know.” Her tone was sarcastic, but part of her found him incredibly intriguing, not to mention handsome. Taller than anyone she'd seen in a long time, orbs an even brighter shade of blue than hers, she found herself fixated on him, unable to pull away.

 

 

“I'd better get to getting you that drink,” he told her with a wink, sidestepping slightly. “What's your name, darlin'?”

 

 

“Hillary,” she smiled. “Hillary Rodham.” She extended a hand and he took it, she noting the firmness of his handshake. “You?”

 

 

Long, slow minutes rolled by and she wondered if she should ask again, if he'd heard her at all, knew he had when she saw his mouth open and close several times.

 

 

“This is Bill,” a friend positioned next to him spoke up, coming to his rescue and clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Bill Clinton.”

 

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “You're just so pretty I couldn't remember my own name for a minute.”

 

 

“Well, Bill Clinton,” Hillary said as she cast her gaze back to him, chuckling at his compliment, still agape mouth and slightly flushed skin. “Shall I find us seats while you work on the drinks?”

 

 

“Absolutely,” he nodded as he watched her walk away from him and moved to order their alcohol.

 

 

“What?” the friend who'd followed him looked at him quizzically, cocking a brow.

 

 

“I think I'm gonna marry that one,” he said with conviction as the bartender handed the chosen beverages to him and they made the short trek back to her.

 

 

“Are you forgetting you have a girlfriend?” his friend guffawed.

 

 

“That can change,” Bill told him with a sideways glance, and he knew that it would. As he took in her petite form situated at a table away from the bar, blue eyes gazing questioningly at them, he knew that one drink, Hillary Rodham and an overwhelming sense of curiosity would see him continuing to think outside the box – colour outside the lines – would be the beginning of everything.

 


End file.
